‘I’m sure it will too,’ Alison replied. ‘But honestly, why do these things all happen at once? It’s been one of those weeks, hasn’t it? Did you have a massive storm on Monday as well? My electrics went and everything for a while, it was a right pain in the neck. And then there was John’s mum and dad having their bust-up, too . . . Crikey. Must be something in the air. Anyway –’ she grabbed her menu theatrically – ‘we should order, because I’ve got Elizabeth Perry’s highlights to do at two-fifteen and she doesn’t half get narky if I’m late. What do you fancy? I’m going for the pasty and some potato wedges. Sod it, it’s Friday after all.’

Robyn studied the menu. It might be Friday, but she was going to have to watch the pennies from now on, she reminded herself, at least until John found a new job. ‘Salad and a diet Coke,’ she replied, reluctantly.

It was Saturday morning, and Jeanie Mortimer stirred sleepily in the double bed, the enormous ceiling fan whirring lazily above her head. One more day of paradise, she thought, opening an eye to see bright sunshine already streaming through the gaps in the shutters. One more day, before she was due to pack up her swimming costume and floaty dresses and return to the real world. Despite the rocky start to her holiday, she’d gone on to have a very nice stay here.

She’d spent the first day in tears, mind, replaying over and over again the moment when she’d seen the young woman – Frankie – staring at Harry, frozen to the spot, and some dreadful sixth sense had sent the hairs prickling on the back of her neck, a descending scale of notes playing ominously in her head. Was there such a thing as female intuition? Whatever, Jeanie had just known.

Kathy Hallows’s daughter, Harry had confirmed to her miserably later on. ‘Me and Kathy, we—’

‘I guessed as much,’ Jeanie had replied before he could get any further. She hadn’t even felt a twinge of surprise. Instead, decades-old memories had flashed up instantly in her consciousness. The school sports day that summer, when she’d been passing the playing field, with Stephen in the pushchair, and they’d stopped to wave to Harry. There had been this very pretty young woman with long chestnut hair and even longer tanned legs, jumping up and down at the sidelines of a race, cheering on the sprinting kids, and Jeanie remembered asking Harry, ‘Who’s that?’